


You and Me and the End Times

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotions, Episode Related, First Kiss, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, S8E17, Self-Discovery, season eight related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 10:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14103636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Steve isn’t okay with Danny’s dismissive answer about the apocalypse. So very not okay.





	You and Me and the End Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> T, this started as “angsty introspective Steve” as I’d promised, but it evolved from there. Pretty sure you won’t mind.... <3
> 
> Since most of you didn’t seem to mind when I let myself ramble on for 10k in [“Popsicles and Mashed Potatoes”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980471), when this decided it didn’t want to be the quick little post-episode coda I’d imagined it would be, I decided to find out just how long it might go, and, well... this happened. It was far too much fun, and I hope you think so too! 
> 
> **Tiny warning** : it starts off a little dark, but does not stay that way. Promise.

It takes him a while to figure out what’s bothering him. He knows he’s upset, it has been an upsetting day on a number of levels, but as things go it hasn’t been awful. So he feels unaccountably upset, unsettled, bothered, in that can’t-let-it-go kind of way, which is all the more upsetting for the fact that he doesn’t entirely understand why he’s so upset.

He swims, he showers, he eats some protein. And he feels _worse_. He puts on some music, tries watching a game, has a beer. It feels like some monster of resentment, of anger, of hurt, of _something_... is burning, deep within his chest. And still he doesn’t understand why.

He gives up, with a growl of frustration, and goes to bed. Maybe he’ll see it clearly in the morning, maybe he’ll somehow be past whatever it is. Or maybe he’ll even dream about it. That’d be nice. A tidy package of understanding presented to him in his sleep. Only problem is, he can’t get to fucking sleep.

But he does start to understand.

Because as he gets sleepy in his anger, he sees smug dystopian smirks, paper coffee cups, grizzled stubble on smart-assed faces turning the whole team against him. Hurt upon hurt, dealt with a fucking grin and capped with a dismissive _Love you._

Fucking bastard.

“No, Danny, you don’t. If you did, you’d at least want to _try_.”

Strangely, knowing _why_ he’s so upset doesn’t exactly help him to feel any better. If anything, it makes him feel worse, because he starts to wonder why he finds it so consumingly upsetting. It isn’t like he isn’t familiar with Danny’s pessimistic side. And maybe it’s a bit new in that he delivered it with a lightness, a smile—rather than his typical angst and gloomy sorrow. And alright, the fact that Tani, Junior, and Lou all so rapidly joined his side stings, more than a little. But even adding all of that up, it doesn’t feel like it amounts to the sum total of his anger over the situation. There’s something he’s missing. He just isn’t sure what it could be.

Except.

Well. Except, he probably does know. He just maybe doesn’t want to admit that it hurts as much as it does. Which, really, is understandable.

_We’d be together, we’d have each other_.

Danny didn’t even blink. It was though it meant nothing to him. And, okay, Steve found that more than a little difficult to swallow.

Alright, so maybe Steve’s spent a little too much time imagining nightmare scenarios. But hell, he was trained for that. And it isn’t like there aren’t very tangible reasons for some of these fears right now. So maybe he’s been spending more time obsessing over them than he usually does. Maybe a lot too much time. But, really, he’s just doing his job, just doing what he was trained to do.

Except... maybe there is a little something more to it this time. Something with a coffee in his hand, bristly stubble on his face, and bristles on his heart.

Maybe the real nightmare scenario is more to do with Danny not wanting to be with Steve as much as Steve wants to be with Danny....

Well, when you put it like that.

It’s not a totally new thought. Not entirely. He’s been slowly becoming aware things were a little more complicated in the feelings department than he liked to imagine. Little bits of things, here and there.... Danny’s concern for him—obsessive concern... that’s something they have in common, at least, being obsessively concerned beyond reasonable measure, about each other. It is a little encouraging. Also their bickering has taken on a slightly different flavor lately. Danny’s seemed... more exhausted by it, more resigned? Less feisty in the way Steve’s come to know and love. And at first he flailed a bit in his own response, but gradually, he’s softened as well. Maybe they’re wearing each other’s edges down or something, but it doesn’t totally feel negative. It actually feels... _nice_. But it hasn’t felt sustainable. It’s felt like it’s a step on the way to something _else_ , some new level, some kind of new... _something_ —bickering, interaction, way of being together... he isn’t sure what.

And maybe that’s not totally honest. Because maybe Steve’s had in the back of his mind over the years, but especially as they near retirement, maybe he’s had this notion that he and Danny will end up together, not just as business partners, not just as friends, but as the something indefinably more that he’s always felt they could be if they just let that one little bit slip.... That one bit they hold off with the bickering, the banter, the jokes, the teasing, the goading.... If they let _that_ slip, Steve’s always assumed they’d end up in bed together. Heck, there’ve been a few times they’ve come close, a few times they nearly let it all slide.

So maybe what’s bothering him now is that he feels like he’s lost that sense of it being a mere slip away. He feels like Danny’s thrown up a wall, or maybe torn one down, but it feels to Steve like it’s no longer on the table. Because of that one stupid, anti-positive-thinking tirade, that one giving in to the darkest of thoughts and picking, so easily, to not even _try_ to stay with him. As though by saying _I don’t choose to live through the apocalypse to be with you_ Danny’s somehow saying _I don’t choose to be with you_.

And maybe he’s being overly emotional about that, but it’s how it feels, and he _hates_ it.

Eventually, he folds, kind of inward on himself, and his eyes grow a little wet, and he feels the hurt flow out of him, as though it’s soaking into his surroundings, and it feels a little like bleeding out, and when he falls asleep it’s closer to blacking out, passing out, than it is to restful slumber, but that feels okay. He doesn’t _want_ to feel well rested. Doesn’t want to feel good. Not about this, not about anything. Not right now. Not till he figures out how to fix this.

 

Things don’t look any brighter, in the morning sunlight that floods his room. The brightness, the light, only seems to make it worse, make him feel darker by contrast. His heart isn’t in swimming... he has that kind of unwell feeling where he keeps struggling to stay afloat, like somehow he’s heavier with this knowledge. He almost wants to let it drag him under. But he doesn’t. Survival instincts are too ingrained in him. In his blood, in his bones. Despite what some might think about his propensity to have a death wish. He might for himself in exchange for others. But his natural, physical, biological impulse is to get them all to survive. He punches a wave in anger and resentment that Danny doesn’t see it the same way, that Danny’s so flippantly willing to throw it all overboard. To throw _him_ overboard.

Coffee doesn’t taste right. And he’s not hungry. He’s upset enough that he goes with it, goes with the anger, goes with the upset, rather than thinking maybe food will help, he just showers and goes to work because doing something will at least shut the voice echoing in his head up for five minutes.

Except it doesn’t work.

They get a case, but it’s simple and not intense enough. There’s no jumping over burning explosive things, no flinging himself in front of danger, no rescuing Danny... no opportunity to press him up against a wall and say _You’re welcome for saving your sorry ass once more you jerk_. Which is probably good, because it’s probably what he would say, and Danny probably wouldn’t take that very well.

Lou gets them all pizza for lunch. Steve sulks in his office while the others all chatter and laugh and joke and probably talk about how they’ll go out in a blaze of glory rather than trying to survive and be together.

He’s not even hungry, which should freak him out, but it doesn’t. He’s too full on his anger. Which is probably not really anger so much as it’s _hurt_. As anger so often is.

Danny pokes his head in. “You not gonna have some pizza, babe?”

And Steve visibly bristles, he knows he doesn’t hide it. How Danny can call him that, call him _babe_ , when he’s made it very clear he doesn’t care enough to be with him, he doesn’t know. He grunts in answer—it’s the best he can do, hopes it’s enough to get Danny to leave—and it almost is. Danny hesitates, looking vaguely concerned, but then Steve ignores him and focuses on his computer and the mindless work he’s been pouring himself into, and Danny shrugs and walks out.

Which of course is just salt in the wound.

Danny knows he’s upset. He’s not an idiot. They know each others’ tells far too well for Danny not to know something’s really got Steve upset. And he shrugs and walks out. Not really helping Steve to feel better about his life at the moment.

Tani comes in, later, to offer him some pizza she saved for him, and he has to stop himself from biting her head off. He manages to dismiss her in a way he hopes isn’t too awful, but he’s afraid it probably is. She takes it perfectly in stride, but as soon as she’s back in her office he sees Danny pick up the phone and he just knows he’s not imagining it; they’re talking about him.

He manages to get sucked into some actual work after that, and spends most of the rest of the day on a stupid conference call and it’s irritating, yes, but it does distract him and keep him occupied, and, even better, it keeps the rest of the team away from him. Part of him hopes he’ll manage to calm down a little. Or at least get fired up about the call and get some of his aggravation out on that instead. Which of course does not happen. Instead he thinks that what happens is that his frustration about Danny’s nonchalance about dying bleeds into his annoyance about the issues in the conference call. The end result of which is that by the time he hangs up he’s ready to jump out of his skin.

The only good thing is that everyone’s gone by then, because first Lou and then Tani had approached the door during the call and he’d angrily gestured for them to go home. He actually watched Danny walk out with them. Which wasn’t at all a symbolic reminder of what happened in the interrogation room. Right.

Steve sits fuming at his desk for a while longer, because honestly it feels good, at least gratifying, and he thinks maybe he gets some of it out, at least the bits about the call, and once he’s cooled a little he heads down to the truck to go home. By this point it’s just over an hour since he’d watched the others leave, so it shouldn’t make his heart sink to see his truck alone in the parking lot, but it does. Just a little.

He takes a huge deep breath, lets it out with more than a little growl, which feels nice, actually, then gets in. For a bit he thinks he might drive by Danny’s... not really thinking what he’d say, how he’d explain why he was there, what he wanted. Danny knows he’s upset, and Danny’s choosing not to say anything about it. Which... well, actually, Steve’s really not sure at all how to take that. Mostly because he’s not used to it. Usually Danny will poke and prod at him and try and get him to share his feelings....

Which, actually, is another thing that’s been subtly different lately, and Steve’s maybe a bit confused about. Especially about the restaurant. Danny’s just... not concerned at all. And, Steve thinks... well, Steve’s puzzled by that, he guesses is the best way to explain it.

Danny’s a worrier. Like, an epic worrier. So, why’s he so unconcerned about the hole they seem to be digging themselves into with this restaurant nonsense? How can Danny be so unconcerned about the restaurant and so unconcerned about nuclear fallout, and so... well. So unconcerned about Steve.

It doesn’t take a master strategist to work out which of those is most upsetting.

So maybe, when he pulls in his drive and sees the Camaro sitting there... well, maybe that lifts his heart just a little. Okay, maybe a lot. But he’s not getting his hopes up. For all he knows, Danny’s here to continue to ignore Steve’s concerns and preferences and so on.... But maybe he’s here for another reason. And suddenly Steve’s unaccountably nervous.

 

He opens the door to the smell of Danny’s cooking, and right away Steve remembers he’s literally had a granola bar and an apple to eat all day. He stands in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Danny at the stove, stirring pots, adding herbs, looking like he belongs there, with that apron tied around him, rather than the gun strapped at his side. Steve thinks he could happily watch Danny cook all day long—and that doesn’t have anything to do with why he finally agreed to do this restaurant thing, nope. Danny turns around, almost as if he heard that, and sees Steve watching. Probably sees the far too fond expression on his face before he hastily tries to clear it away. Shoos him from the kitchen saying “Go swim please before we eat.” So he does. But his mind is not out on the waves, it’s solidly in his kitchen, mixing salad and toasting garlic bread and probably tasting a little too much of the wine to make sure it goes just right with the sauce. Not for the first time Steve realizes just how completely screwed up his life has become. He swims a lot less than usual, dashes upstairs for a shower, changes into sweats, and comes back down, still dripping, to snatch a slice of garlic bread before he has a sip of the wine Danny’s set out for him on the kitchen counter, because if he drinks on this empty of a stomach, there’s no telling how much he’ll confess to Danny. It doesn’t occur to him that Danny knows that. Possibly it should.

Danny leaves Steve standing in the kitchen, munching garlic bread, mutters something about Neanderthals making messes on his kitchen floor—Steve just grins and doesn’t point out it’s actually not Danny’s kitchen because he doesn’t want Danny to admit that it’s not—and sets the dining room table. Once he’s got it all laid out, he bellows at Steve to come sit down and eat you big jerk, and probably he’s already in trouble as he feels a bit woozy with the wine as he eagerly follows his disgruntled partner.

He knows after that he should have seen it coming, what happens next. But he’s just too dang contented to have Danny in his kitchen, in his house, and he isn’t nearly paranoid enough.

Danny hasn’t made agnolotti, as he’d almost thought might be the case—there hadn’t really been enough time, probably. It’s tortellini, which Steve knows Danny had in the freezer, but the sauce is fresh and it’s even better than the last one, he swears, although that might be a little bit because he’s starving.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Danny asks, and Steve, idiot that he is, nods with his mouth full and says “Yeah, really good, buddy, thank you.”

“Nice to have a good meal at the end of a long hard day, wouldn’t you say?” Again, Steve the idiot simply agrees, takes another bite. “Something people enjoy, something they look forward to. Treat themselves to, even, because they deserve it, because they work hard and food is important, and more than that, food is love, and people can buy food, and that’s kind of like buying love.”

Finally Steve starts to get a tiny bit suspicious. “Okay...” he replies, warily.  

“Okay, so stop freaking out that our restaurant isn’t going to open, isn’t going to be successful, okay? I don’t need that kind of negativity, and it pisses me off and it exhausts me, and I’m sick of it.” He sighs and takes a big gulp of wine as Steve just stares at him with his mouth hanging open. “Eat your food,” Danny mutters, when he looks and sees Steve, slack jawed, ogling him like an idiot.

“Danny....”

“Just eat your food, jerk.”

He puts his fork down, wants to reach for Danny’s hand, still him, stop him. “Danny, I’m sorry.” Danny won’t look at him now, and Steve’s stomach clenches. “I just worry. I know you said not to, but I do, I can’t help it. I know this is your dream, and I worry we’ll fuck it up.”

Danny downs the rest of his wine and then looks up at Steve. “Do you know how that makes me feel, though? That all you seem to do is worry about it, and harass me about it, and send negative thoughts toward it?”

“Um....” (He doesn’t, obviously. But he’s pretty sure he should.)

“It makes me feel like you don’t trust me. Like you think I can’t do this. Like you regret agreeing to do this with me. Like you want out.” He looks up at Steve. His eyes, and how did Steve not notice this before, but his eyes are just slightly red. Could be from the onions he used in the sauce, but Steve thinks probably it’s not. Feels like a great big heel... but also, well, frankly, also he does know exactly how that feels. “Do you want out?”

“What? No! How could you think that, buddy?”

“Because of everything I just said, Steve. Because you’re nothing but negativity about the restaurant lately, and I hate how that makes me feel.”

Steve thinks he’s going to need a whole lot more wine than what’s left in the bottle. He finishes his glass, pours more, offers more to Danny who refuses. Taking a deep breath, having absolutely zero idea what to say, he winds up saying maybe not the smartest thing: “I know the feeling.”

Takes Danny a moment before he can reply. “What?”

“I just... I know what it feels like when your partner is negative about your plans.” He wonders if he can leave it at that, if Danny will see what he means... or if he’s going to have to be more explicit about it.

Danny takes a moment, but Steve thinks he sees when it begins to dawn on him. He reaches for the wine then, and does refill his glass. Takes three small sips before he sets his glass down and starts to reply.

“Are you seriously comparing my plans for the restaurant with your plans to survive nuclear Armageddon?”

Steve swallows. Okay, maybe it sounds ridiculous when you word it like that....

Danny starts to laugh, which stings Steve more than a little. “Oh, babe. Seriously?”

He feels his eyes narrow. His anger starting to rise again. How can Danny laugh at him like this? How can he be so insensitive?

Danny must read some of that on his face, because he stops laughing. “Babe, I thought you were upset about the restaurant. I forgot about the stupid apocalypse thing, I was so mad about you harassing me about the restaurant. I thought that’s what you’ve been upset about this whole time, but it’s not? It’s actually that I didn’t take your drill seriously? That I, what, pointed out the improbability of it all to the rest of the team and they agreed with me? That’s really what you’re upset about?”

Steve feels a little bit like an idiot. But he also knows that what he’s upset about isn’t really totally about the fallout drill. He’s not at all sure he can manage to say any of that to Danny, though. So he drinks more wine and decides that he’s gonna let Danny think that. Because he doesn’t see a better way out of this.

 

It’s not a bad move on Steve’s part, because Danny actually softens after that, and he’s kind of sweetly solicitous for the rest of the evening. Still utterly dismissive of Steve’s concerns about nuclear annihilation being anything worth even considering, but Steve shoves that aside for now because Danny’s in caretaker mode, and Steve, god help him, enjoys that a little too much. Probably more than a little. Yeah, a lot more. _Crap_.

To make up for not having made dessert, Danny makes after-dinner drinks. At which point Steve starts to wonder how much of a head start Danny’d had on the wine before he’d made it home. They watch something mindless on the TV and do that almost-cuddling thing they’ve perfected by now: Danny against Steve, Steve’s arm around Danny, sides pressed together, not too closely, but closely enough. By the time Danny heads home, Steve feels vaguely lulled and comforted and thinks he might actually sleep, so he showers and gets in bed... only to suddenly find himself completely wide awake.

He wants to pretend he doesn’t know why, after such a pleasing evening, he’s finding himself growing upset again—but he knows why... knows in that slow motion laying-out-all-the-reasons-why kind of way that is utterly inescapable. Because, yeah, that was a lovely evening. Danny in his house, making him food, plying him with wine, resting against him on the sofa.... By all standards, a pleasant night in. Except, that’s all it is, all it ever will be. And before, when Steve felt he could still see, in the future, a night like that leading to breakfast the next morning—or maybe just coffee in bed... he held on to that dream for years. And he cannot stop himself now from feeling that dream has shattered. On the stupid twelve by twenty cinderblock interrogation room of Danny’s admission that he’s no desire to survive the apocalypse simply to stay by Steve’s side.

Why he can’t get over it is starting to frustrate him. It’s not like he hasn’t been disappointed in love before. He’s got a nice track record on that front. Although, maybe that’s why. And maybe it’s his fault... putting too many hopes on Danny for too many years. Allowing himself to string himself along (because, it’s not Danny’s fault, not really)... hanging too much on the “once we retire” peg in his mind... and, okay, maybe, just maybe, when Danny started talking about the restaurant in retirement, rather than, as part of Steve had always feared, returning to Jersey... maybe he’d ratcheted his hopes up a few notches. Maybe that was his big mistake. Because maybe that was actually going in the wrong direction. For Danny, Steve thinks, being restaurant partners is a solidification of their relationship status quo, not an evolution, not a deepening... not like Steve’s seen it.

He’s not kidding when he says he wants to take care of the business side so that Danny can be in his kitchen, live that dream. And not just because of some selfish _I kinda like you in an apron_ sort of fetish he seems to have developed recently. Yes, he enjoys that. Yes, he thinks Danny’s sexy when he cooks. But part of that is because Danny has this ease in the kitchen that Steve’s never seen on him before. Maybe a little bit with the kids sometimes, especially with Charlie. Maybe sometimes when they surf and it’s just the two of them and Danny goes into that wonderfully slack surfer dude mode he’s somehow held onto from the 80s and it’s so fucking endearing Steve can barely stand it. But when Danny’s really in the flow in his cooking, when he’s making a new sauce or trying a new dough or pairing a new wine... it’s almost like he’s transformed. He’s resplendent in it. Maybe it’s partly the heat and humidity of the kitchen, but he fucking glows. And he moves with such comfort, such confidence. Steve likes to think it’s Danny’s equivalent of his own almost strut that he knows he gets sometimes on ops when he really feels he’s in his element. The kitchen is Danny’s element. And Steve never knew that, for almost eight years he never knew that... and it still makes him kind of dizzy sometimes. But he knows it now, and he can’t imagine living without it. Which leaves him, he knows, with one option: He has to get over this. And fast.

He’s never felt less capable of anything in his entire life.

 

Somehow, some miraculous how, he gets through the next couple of days without completely falling apart. Danny gives him lots of sideways glances, like maybe he suspects something is off? Or maybe he’s just still really touchy about the restaurant. Maybe, just maybe Danny’s feeling the tiniest bit bad about the whole _I don’t want to do the apocalypse with you_ thing. Maybe? Then again, maybe Steve’s just a great big ball of wishful thinking.

Friday night sees Steve staying in the office too late. Everyone else left early, and sometimes when that happens, Steve has a hard time leaving. Danny’s got both kids, and a booked weekend, and he didn’t, as he sometimes does, invite Steve along for any of it. He tries not to put any meaning to that other than it’s been a while since Danny’s had both kids and he probably just wants some time with them. Steve understands that. In theory at least. Obviously it’s not something he’ll ever truly get. He adores Grace and he is completely smitten with Charlie, but it’s different, it must be so very different, when they’re actually _yours_. He hates that Danny doesn’t get to see them more, thinks that’s really unfair. Maybe he’s biased, because of his attitude about his own mother, but Danny’s an awesome dad, and it sucks that he gets so little time with his kids.

And just like that, it hits him. Sideways. Like a proverbial ton of bricks. He actually stops breathing and finds it impossibly hard to restart, has to remind himself that breathing is an important part of living.

_Danny’s kids_.

If a nuke hit Oahu, Five-0 might survive, supposing they were at the office, supposing that cell really did hold like Steve imagines it would.

But the kids....

The school might still have bomb shelters. A lot of them did, after Pearl Harbor. But Steve has zero faith in the survival abilities of a group of school teachers. Maybe he’s misjudging them, but he wouldn’t trust Grace and Charlie in the hands of amateurs in an apocalyptic scenario.

It should make him feel better. He won’t pretend to guess how he might feel, as a parent, knowing your kids wouldn’t survive... he thinks probably he’d still want to fight, but he knows nothing about actually being a parent. He does know Danny, though. He knows Danny—he likes to think, at least—really damn well. And he can absolutely see, with terrifying clarity, that Danny, with all his strengths, weaknesses, predilections, predispositions... Danny would not be okay living in a world where there was no Grace and no Charlie. It does not require a degree in psychology to work that one out.

So, yeah, it seems like, Steve thinks, it seems that should make him feel a little bit better about Danny’s total unwillingness to even give the whole survival thing a go.

The thing is. And Steve thinks he might be the worst person ever for it. But it really doesn’t. It doesn’t make it better at all. And actually... actually, in some really fucked up kind of way, it makes it _worse_.

He’s not going to try and work that one out, not now. Right now he feels like he wants to throw up, and he’s had a nice streak going on that front, thanks, so he shuts his mind down, _hard_. And heads home.

He swims. Grills some steak. Drinks far too much whiskey. Eddie doesn’t complain about that, good dog. He just rolls over and gets another belly rub. At least Steve has Eddie. At least he’ll have some comfort, some company, some solace, when he’s old and alone. (Please don’t point out that Eddie’s already old and dogs don’t live forever, Steve doesn’t think he can take that reminder right now.)

Steve decides he’ll spend some of his weekend doing the “research” Danny so kindly suggested he do. If he’s going to make the most of what he does have with Danny, he may as well stop being such a negative thorn in Danny’s side and at least know the proper terminology for the food his partner plans on serving.

He drunk orders some books on Italian cooking, stumbles on a cooking message board, and maybe it’s the whiskey talking, or his desperate loneliness, but are all cooks so suggestive? He falls down a rabbit hole of reviews on recipe websites, and who knew people could be so inventive with what to say about “how to boil water.” He falls asleep on the sofa, which he regrets immensely in the morning when he has a crick in his neck and a mouthful of cotton, not to mention a head full of fuzz and a stomach full of slosh. The words _too old for this shit_ echo through his head as he stands and regrets that as well. 

 

Grabbing a big bottle of water, Steve hits the bathroom for what feels like the longest shower he’s ever taken. Eventually he gets out, staggering slightly, dripping wet and naked, having left the fresh towels on his bed, and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Danny sitting there, on his bed. Danny doesn’t move to hand him a towel. In fact, he seems to have moved them back further from his reach. So Steve stands there, thankfully in too much pain for any part of him to be even vaguely interested in this scenario which may or may not be close to one he’s actually imagined. Um. Repeatedly.

“That has to be the longest shower you’ve ever taken. I think the Navy’s gonna kick you out or something.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve grabs for a towel and Danny lets him take it.

“The kids got invited to some last minute trip to a resort with a tube ride and waterslides... I have neither, so I lost. I did try texting you last night, but you didn’t respond. Or this morning. So I thought I’d check in on you, since you’ve been kind of a jerk lately. Thought maybe you’d done something stupid. Like drink half a bottle of whiskey and sleep on the sofa?”

Steve looks at the bed, still made. Because he hadn’t slept in it. As for the rest, well, Danny is kind of observant sometimes.

“Thank you,” Danny replies, as if Steve had said that out loud. “I am a detective, you know.”

Steve dries himself off and pulls some sweats on. No way is he swimming today. Hell, he’ll be lucky to do anything today. Bed actually looks vaguely appealing, but he knows he needs food.

“Come on, let’s get you fed.” Danny stands, wraps an arm around Steve hugging him slightly, just for a moment. “Jesus, do I have to move in here and make sure you’re eating? Since when is that a problem for you, huh?” He says it mostly to himself, and Steve doesn’t trust himself not to say _yes, god yes, please_ , so he doesn’t reply.

Danny makes coffee, burns some toast (how can he be such an amazing cook when it comes to his grandmother’s Italian food, and then burn toast?), makes some eggs that aren’t bad and don’t set off the smoke detector, like that one memorable time.... Steve grins sleepily but contentedly, given the state of his head, leans against the counter, sipping coffee (with some whiskey, which does help), watching Danny, and finds himself thinking, yeah, Danny moving in and making sure he eats sounds just about perfect. He’s lost. He knows. He doesn’t even care anymore.

They sit out on the lanai to eat because Danny has this idea that fresh air is good for a hangover. He’s not totally wrong about that, Steve thinks, although the pancetta Danny put in the eggs probably helps at least as much.

He’s expecting Danny to push it, to ask what the hell he was thinking, why would he abuse Danny’s liver that way, _something_. Anything. But he doesn’t. He just lets Steve be. Maybe this is some kind of reverse psychology trick or something. Don’t ask about what the other person is upset about so they break down and tell you. He thinks he’s heard Danny and Lou talk about such things when it comes to getting information out of reluctant teenagers. Steve’s vaguely uncomfortable with the notion that Danny would manipulate him like he would a guilty teen, but he’s right, he’s been a jerk. He just doesn’t think he can bring himself to break his own heart by admitting to Danny _why_.

He wants this. Danny here, over coffee and burnt toast with too much jam, sleepy weekend mornings. He wants Danny in his kitchen, making him food, bossing him around. He wants this so bad he can taste it. Watching Danny bite his lip in between sips of coffee, Steve thinks he wants to taste that. Taste Danny’s coffee on his lips. Wants to taste the skin at the side of his neck, right where it dips at his collarbone, that little wrinkle there....

Danny’s watching Steve looking at him. His eyes have narrowed, he’s rubbing his hands over his mug, a nervous behavior, like he did the other day with the paper coffee cup. Wait. Why would Danny have been nervous then? What about that moment, Danny slowly, logically, clearly, explaining to Steve, point by point why exactly he wasn’t wild about his survival ideas... why would that have made Danny anxious? That doesn’t make any sense.

Unless....

Steve’s stomach’s in that _I think I’m going to be okay but you better be damn careful because I could change my mind at any minute_ place, and this new line of thinking is not helping, but what if... what if Danny was... what, testing Steve? He’d had a kind of mischievous grin on his face. He’d had a bit of playful, slightly bouncy energy to him. Steve had glossed over that because of his words. But what if he was pushing Steve, waiting to see how far he’d go? What if... oh, why doesn’t his brain work better? He’d been upset that Danny hadn’t responded differently to his line about them having each other, but there’d been something about how he _had_ responded. Is it possible that he was hoping for... more?

“You just gonna hang out here all day?” He asks, he hopes lazily, casually—not as though everything in the world depends on it.

Danny looks at him. Does that assessing thing like he’d done in the interrogation room, a slight up and down, like he’s trying to understand something, work something out. Like Steve’s a puzzle to him. He doesn’t reply, just drinks more coffee. But he doesn’t at all look like he plans on moving, so Steve takes that as a yes. Tries not to look too smug. Thinks probably he just looks vaguely unwell, so at least there’s that.

 

He does stay. And slips easily into what’s basically a slightly passive-aggressive version of his caretaking mode. Makes Steve drink lots of water, makes him rest, covers him with a blanket when a breeze and some clouds make it cool, and makes him eat. Lunch is sandwiches, and Steve thinks either Danny’s trying to make himself feel better about not having the kids, or he’s trying out an idea for the restaurant, because they’re kind of ridiculously over the top sandwiches. He’s biased, of course, but he thinks they’d be a very popular lunch item, if Danny decided to do a lunch menu. They haven’t talked about it, so he’s not sure. Doesn’t feel he can ask, not right now. Besides, it’s possible, too, that Danny’s doing some kind of hangover cure thing with all the greasy meats and heavy bread. Steve’s head’s not really working very well, and he’s kind of enjoying that, so he doesn’t try to think very hard about any of it. And since when is Steve the one having to convince himself that not thinking obsessively about something is a good idea? It’s like he’s becoming Obsessive Worrier Danny, and Danny’s somehow becoming, what, easy going unconcerned Steve? They really are like an old married couple sometimes....

Steve naps on the sofa, and when he wakes, he worries that he has no idea what Danny’s been doing during that time... he was out for like two and a half hours, so he thinks maybe he should be a little worried. It looks like Danny hasn’t moved, though. When Steve drifted off, Danny was sitting in the easy chair, watching him (either concernedly or angrily, he wasn’t really sure which), and he is still there, scrolling though something on his phone, but otherwise seeming as though he’s been keeping guard. It’s an odd thought, and it does something funny to Steve’s insides. Which is when he notices he feels a whole lot better. Maybe Danny should sell those sandwiches, market them as hangover cures. Wonders if Danny knows that—probably not something he learned from his grandma, but maybe something he and Matt figured out or something. Maybe when they’re on easier footing he’ll ask. Right now he still feels tentative—not because of the hangover now, but because of Danny. And, whatever all this is.

Danny smiles softly at him. “Feel better?”

“Lots,” he replies, testing that theory by sitting up, and sure enough, he stays feeling okay.

“Better enough to swim a little?”

He thinks about that. He’s been neglecting his swimming, and he knows that doesn’t tend to go very well for him. It’d be nice, he thinks, to at least get in the water for a bit. Thinks it’d be even nicer if Danny came as well.... Wonders if he dares ask.

“Maybe...” he starts, but loses his nerve before he can ask.

“Good. I’ll come out too. Too much sitting still today.”

“Yeah?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I do swim, jerk. I’d rather surf, but I could use some time in the ocean. Salt water being the cure for everything and all.”

It occurs to Steve that Danny’s here only partly because he was worried about Steve. Partly—and probably the bigger part, he realizes—because he’s hurt, possibly really hurt, by the kids picking a trip to a resort with their friends over him. And a little something shifts at that, because he thinks it must mean something that when Danny’s heart is hurting he turns to Steve. He doesn’t feel it like he’s a second choice, because of course the kids will always have the place closest in Danny’s heart. But it feels a little bit like Danny’s come to Steve for comfort. Maybe by default. Maybe he’s reading more into it that isn’t really there. But maybe he’s not. 

So they swim for a bit, and it’s more just being in the water and splashing around, but that’s about where his energy level is, and besides... it’s nice. Just being out in the sun and the surf, with Danny. It’s some kind of relaxing on some different level from what they usually do, and maybe it’s because Steve’s still a little fragile, and maybe it’s because Danny’s emotionally bruised. But they’ve been bruised and fragile together before, and Steve really doesn’t want to get his hopes up, because the fall will be that more likely to break him, but it feels warm and comforting in a new way, and he lets it.

Danny makes pasta carbonara for dinner and they eat it sitting on the sofa watching a movie. Steve starts to nod off at some point, and Danny turns the volume down and settles more easily against his side.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the kids this weekend, buddy,” Steve whispers, his hand coming up to rest against Danny’s head before he realizes it. He lets it settle in the still-damp hair, relishing the not-slicked-backness of it.

“Mmmm, at least it means I get to take care of you,” Danny mumbles.

_Get to_....

Maybe it’s sleepy lazy word choice, but Steve’s not too sure. “You gonna stay?” He asks instead. “You should stay.” He wants to add _in my bed_ , but his heart clenches. “Mary’s room’s clean,” he offers, mostly because he knows Danny will sleep on the sofa without hesitation, and he’d rather... well, he’d rather have him upstairs, even if it’s not where he really wants him, and maybe he’s just walking right into his heart being shattered, but what the hell else is he supposed to do at this point, it’s just sitting there. He can’t ignore it. He doesn’t want to.

“Mmmm, good idea,” Danny says softly to Steve’s chest as he turns inward, snuggling even further. “That way I can make sure you eat tomorrow, too. Maybe that way on Monday you won’t be such a jerk....” And he’s so sleepy he’s probably not really aware of what he’s saying, but it means he thinks about it, thinks about Steve, and eating, and his mood, and that’s not going to be something that isn’t going to affect Steve’s heart.

They watch the rest of the movie like that. Well, they sit there like that until the credits start to roll. He’s not really sure either of them pays much attention to the movie, which isn’t really very compelling anyway. But the feel of Danny against his side like that _is_ compelling. It’s very compelling. Not to mention addictive. And potentially dangerous, because they’ve always been a little bit like this. And maybe there’ve been some softening edges to it the past few months, but that could so easily be them getting old, and all things just getting a little bit softer. It feels, Steve thinks, very similar to this less obsessive, more relaxed, more-trusting-about-the-restaurant side of Danny, this side that’s been coming out more and more while Steve tenses more about it, about other things, too. Like sheltering from bombs, and wanting to survive Armageddon.

Thing is. It’s starting to feel a little bit obvious that both of those things are maybe more about something else entirely. He just can’t quite see, yet, what that might really be.

 

Danny does sleep in Mary’s room, and Steve thinks at first that sleeping with Danny so close and yet not in his bed where he wishes he was will be impossible, but it’s not. It’s not at all. He sleeps, perhaps surprisingly, but he sleeps better than he has in a long time. Even more surprisingly, he sleeps _in_ , which he never does.

When he wakes, he listens for Danny, and hears quiet, and his heart sinks a little at that, but then he notices the breeze, and when he gets up he sees the door to the upstairs lanai is open, and he looks out and sees Danny sitting there, chair at the railing, bare feet up on the ledge, coffee at his side, basking in the warmth like a seal sunning itself. Turning away quietly, he heads downstairs to get his own coffee, then comes back up and pulls a chair up to the railing next to Danny, who smiles just a little when Steve sits down, but doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.

Being here like this, Steve thinks, so companionably, so easily... he likes it more than he’s imagined he might. And, well, he’s imagined it kind of a lot. But there’s something so utterly comforting about sitting silently in the morning sun, nothing really to do, no pressure, no expectations, just them and the sun and the sound of the waves lapping softly at the sand, slight breeze rustling the leaves above them, the slick swoop of the lovebirds as they perform their morning acrobatics though the trees. He could happily spend every Sunday morning like this, he decides, and then almost hates himself for the thought, for taking this moment and weighing it down with that desire for more.

That’s probably a lot of Steve’s problem right now. This thing about more. It’s why the retirement thing bugged him so much to begin with—the idea that Danny was ready to let go of what they have, when Steve felt trapped by this need for _more_. It’s what worries him about the restaurant—that Danny’s letting it be good enough or passable just to get it done, while Steve’s feeling that it needs to be perfect, because it’s Danny’s dream. (And why does he care more about that than Danny does?) And it’s absolutely what bugged the hell out of him about the utterly nonchalant approach Danny took to the nuclear drill, the easy willingness with which he theoretically gave up his life, not even thinking he’d want to fight for _more_.

“You wanna talk about it babe?”

He’s so deeply embroiled in his own thought process, he’s almost forgotten Danny’s sitting there too. Forgotten that Danny can sense when he’s thinking something but not saying it. Evidently he can do that without even looking at his face, which feels new.

“Talk about what?”

He tries to force himself to relax, wondering what gave him away. He’s watching Danny, looking for some kind of hint of his awareness of this, how much he senses, how much he’s just blindly guessing.

“Whatever it is that’s got you so worked up.” Danny doesn’t open his eyes, just gestures vaguely in Steve’s direction.

He starts to ask what makes him think he’s worked up, but he stops with a resigned sigh. He could keep puzzling over it in his head, probably all day long, and probably get next to nowhere.... Or he could just ask. He doesn’t want to argue, doesn’t want to ruin this tentative thing they’ve got going here. And he realizes, with a little bit of a jolt, actually, that not wanting to ruin what they _do_ have has maybe been keeping Steve from reaching out and trying to get _more_. His whole obsession has been with more, but maybe he’s been going about it in entirely the wrong way. The truth of that settles in his chest and won’t budge, pushing him toward the edge he typically avoids, the one that he’s afraid has the sharpest drop off of any edge ever, because it’s the edge away from what he does have with Danny. It’s always been there, and he knows it always will, and he’s always going to be afraid of falling over it. Unless he does something different from what he usually does. So he takes a deep breath, plants his feet more solidly on the deck, and asks the question that’s been burning a hole in his heart the past week.

“Why don’t you want to try to survive with me?”

Steve half thinks Danny will dismiss him, easily, as he’s been doing. Instead he sighs, in that kind of way Steve well knows is Danny’s preparing-to-deal-with-an-issue kind of way.

“Oh, babe. It’s not about you.”

_Of course_. “The kids....”

Danny smiles. “It’s not even about the kids.”

Now Steve _is_ perplexed.

Danny turns to look at Steve. Pulls his legs down from the railing, resting his elbows on his knees. “Quite simply, I do not have the desire to live that kind of existence.” He laughs, and it’s bitter, broken, he’s thought about this, possibly a lot. “I don’t want to hunt, to grow food, to have to triple distill water to drink. I don’t want to live without delivery pizza, babe. I’m not cut out for that kind of a life.” He sighs and leans back, feet creeping back up the railings. “I’m not like you, I can’t live on MREs and sleep with a gun under my pillow—would you even have a pillow? You’d be happy with that, you’d probably love it, all rough and rustic. I need AC and take out and TV. Don’t ever take me camping, babe. You’d hate me.”

“But we’d still have each other....”

Danny grins. “And I love that’s enough for you. I wouldn’t make it. You know those scenes in disaster movies where someone’s hurt and they’re all ‘go on without me’? I’m that guy, Steven. I’m the guy who trips and falls down the stairs and dies of an infection. I am not the guy who discovers some hidden strength and rises to the occasion and invents some machine that makes everyone’s lives ten times better. You know who is? That’s you, babe. That is so you. You’d rule the planet if Armageddon happened. I’d die the first week.”

Danny’s still looking at Steve, watching his eyes for some kind of reaction. Frowns when he thinks he sees it, right before Steve says:

“It wouldn’t be worth it without you.”

“What? Don’t be stupid—”

“It wouldn’t. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Now you’re just being weird. Of course you could. Didn’t I just say, you could rule the world....”

Steve just shakes his head.

“This is silly, you need to eat.”

Danny, evidently, is going to save the world by feeding Steve. He heads downstairs, not looking to see if Steve is following. When Steve does follow, bringing both their mugs and refilling them, putting Danny’s in front of him, holding on to his own as if it’s keeping him upright, Danny’s making eggs with the last of the pancetta and some leftover veg, but he doesn’t have that usual kitchen grace about him. He seems upset, distracted. Confused. Clumsy. When he burns himself on the pan, Steve steps in.

“Just stop it, Danny. What’s going on?”

“Why couldn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Do Armageddon without me? Why not?”

He repeats his answer from the bunker. “You really need to ask that question?”

“Yeah, obviously I do, just answer the damn question Steven.”

“Let me put some ice on that,” Steve reaches for Danny’s burnt hand, puts some ice in a bowl with water, and puts Danny’s hand in it.

Danny’s eyes haven’t left Steve the whole time. They’re doing that up and down looking, searching thing. Like he’s somehow going to understand what the hell is going on if he looks hard enough, finds the right clue, maybe.

“Answer the question, Steve.”

“Because there wouldn’t be any point.”

“ _Why not_.”

Steve bites his lip, hard. Well, here’s that edge. Jump—and fall or fly. He literally has no idea which. He takes a breath and looks Danny squarely in the eye.

“Because I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“Why not?” It’s softer, more tentative.

Steve huffs out a short, sharp laugh. “Because, you idiot. You’re everything to me.”

Danny’s not even moving, it’s like he’s been stunned, paralyzed. Then he takes one step forward, lifts his hand out of the bowl of ice water, takes another step. He’s right up against Steve, staring at his chest. His good hand comes up and grabs a fistful of shirt, tugs hard, pulling some of Steve’s chest hairs with it, but he doesn’t mind at all. Danny’s other hand—the icy one—reaches up behind Steve’s neck, dripping cold water down the back of his tee. He shivers, but he’s not really sure it’s because of that. Slowly, painfully slowly, Danny pulls Steve down until he’s at his level.

“You absolute jerk. Why didn’t you tell me.” And it’s more a bite at Steve’s lips than a kiss, which is possibly because Danny’s struggling against tears. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me.” And now it’s a kiss. A sloppy, desperate kiss, but Danny’s hand’s warm now, or warm enough, and Steve wraps his arms around Danny, almost sweeping him up in them, and part of his brain still thinks he’s falling and not flying, but there’s enough that’s convinced it’s flying, and when Danny starts choking on his tears and has to pull back, they realize the smoke detector is going off, and Steve reaches over and turns the stove off and puts the lid on the pan.

“Trying to burn my house down again.”

Danny’s laugh is a sputtery one, dripping in tears. “This doesn’t change my mind. I’m still not doing the apocalypse with you.”

“I’ll just have to make the most of the time before that. And try and change your mind in time.”

Danny pretends he can’t hear him, over the sound of the smoke detector, and Steve doesn’t push it. Doesn’t dare push anything right now. He reaches up and hits reset on the detector, turns the exhaust fan on, opens the window.

“Well, hopefully it won’t ever come up. As long as you don’t try to take me camping.”

“If I did, you would love it.”

Danny gets that sideways _ohh, you better watch it_ look that’s so freaking adorable, and it shoots straight through Steve. He grins.

“That is not a challenge, babe. Seriously. Like now? We could call and order food, see how civilized?”

“Mmmm. And if we were camping, I would have you all to myself.”

“You _do_ have me all to yourself. Right now. A lot of the time, in fact.”

“Not enough.”

Danny sighs, lets himself be pulled into Steve’s arms, held tight. Ohh, and Steve could get used to this, he thinks. Because he hugs Danny a lot, but there’s usually some element of squirming at some point. That’s just gone now. Instead he’s melting into his chest, really allowing Steve that control, not resisting it at all. Which reminds him of the thought he’d had, if Danny’d been waiting for Steve to do this, do something—prove himself somehow.

“When I said we’d have each other, we’d rebuild, we’d fight... were you... hoping I’d say more?”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not really sure, I just wondered after, if you were waiting for me to... wanting me to make a stronger statement?” He bites his lip. “Of needing you? Of it being us, against the world?”

“Maybe a little.” He sounds a little unsure. “It’s a heck of a romantic notion, and you’re very persuasive. Very seductive. I might have been drawn in by that a little.” His tone’s gone a bit wistful, a bit soft. He sighs, straightens up a bit in Steve’s arms. “But I still can’t live without good coffee, and neither of us, I’d point out, knows how to make malasadas....”

“Maybe you should learn.”

“I think there are other things I’d prefer to focus on, to be honest.”

“Such as?”

“Such as if I start sleeping with you can I somehow get rid of all your cargo pants.”

“Seriously. _That’s_ your priority.”

“It’s a place to start....”

Steve does love his cargo pants, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to prefer the sleeping with Danny side of things. So he doesn’t say no.

After an intensive make out session against the kitchen doorframe, they manage to not burn some eggs and toast, and sit out on the upstairs lanai, plates in laps, bare feet resting against each other, facing one another, as though looking away is somehow tempting fate. Then, after some more coffee and more kissing, Danny tempts Steve into the water for a real swim while he splashes by the shore, laying out, surprisingly, in the sand, golden chest hairs dancing in the breeze. Steve sits and watches him like that, after his swim, contented in his ability to openly admire now—not that he didn’t watch plenty before, but it’s different, he decides, watching and wanting versus observing something that’s being offered. He wants to know what those hairs will feel like on his tongue, if they’ll feel as shiny as they look. There’s a lot he wants to know, to learn... and there’s part of him that wants it all as quickly as possible. But there’s part of him that doesn’t want to lose that deliciousness of the slow seduction, the learning step by step, unraveling the newness of a body, of responses. And Danny’s body isn’t new to him, nor is his to Danny. But that will just make it different. It will still be an exploration, a discovery, a journey, and just because he’s been wanting to embark on it for more years than he’d like to count doesn’t mean he’s going to rush it now he’s finally got his ticket. He wants to miss nothing. Wants each and every step, wants it all.

“You just gonna look?”

Danny’s evidently perfected the _knowing what Steve’s doing even with his eyes shut_ thing, and he thinks probably that should make him very very nervous. But he’s too giddy to be concerned. He’s too charged with anticipation, yes, of looking. And of touching and tasting as well. He leans over Danny, resting his hands in the sand on either side of his face, lowers himself down and whispers: “It’s a place to start.”

 

Which it is, of course. A very good one. But it’s not enough, not now they know they can have more. Steve tastes that spot at the side of Danny’s neck and finds Danny’s wonderfully sensitive there. He wonders how much of a reaction he’ll be able to get from a brush of the tips of his fingers against it, if he slings his arm—casually, of course—around Danny just so.... Wonders how many other delightful things they’ll discover. Endless, he hopes. He does learn that Danny’s still bothered by sand—he can extend his tolerance with judiciously applied nips across Danny’s chest (the hairs do in fact feel like gold on his tongue, or so it seems to him, possibly he’s being fanciful), but only for so long before Danny insists on very through showers for them both (separately, because they both are in agreement—remarkably—when it comes to the speed with which they will progress through the various stages of this new thing between them).

Danny’s out of clean clothes, so he borrows some from Steve, and it turns out that Danny in Steve’s old Navy SEAL tee is a thing he’d not imagined, though he cannot for the life of him figure out why not. He’s used to feeling protective over Danny—fiercely so, at times. But this... this is some new level of that entirely.

They make sandwiches again, and this time Steve does feel he can ask. Danny’s flattered Steve thinks he could sell them, but they are just a Danny thing, and yeah, he figured they’d be helpful after all that whiskey, but that’s not their origin. They were born out of a seriously-missing-Jersey tantrum he’d thrown several years back and spent months raiding all the stores on the island for the best substitutes he could find, the closest approximation to his favorite deli sandwich back home. He’d actually had the stuff on hand for his weekend with the kids....

Steve feels bad for the reminder, but he’s emboldened enough to ask about Danny having come to him in place of having the kids.

“Do I do that? Probably. I’m sorry, that’s awful.”

Steve shakes his head. “I really don’t mind. I kind of like it, actually.”

Danny frowns at him around a bite of sandwich. “How so?”

“I guess I like the idea you think being with me would help.”

“Maybe it’s just that taking care of you is a lot like taking care of my kids....”

Steve thinks Danny’s expecting him to throw his napkin or something, but he just grins. “I like that, too.”

Danny shakes his head, bemused.

“What? You’re fantastic at it. And it makes me feel....” He trails off before he can say something he’d probably regret, even given his new boldness on that front.

Of course Danny’s intrigued. Steve thinks he tries to play it down, doesn’t act overly eager. He’s pretty sure that means he’s all the more interested to know how Steve feels about it. But he doesn’t press, takes a sip of his water and waits, not expectantly... but not-expectant in a way that makes Steve feel like he’s expecting it—it’s just a matter of time. It’s probably that teenager trick thing again or something. Steve, of course, falls for it.

“It wasn’t something my family really did. That’s your family, the caretaking, the showing affection with food, all of that. I didn’t ever have that, certainly not in the Navy. I like it. It makes me feel like I belong. Like I’m wanted.”

He’s not sure if Danny’s more stunned _by_ Steve’s admission, or _that_ he admitted it, but he reaches the mere inches across to Steve’s chair and pulls it closer. “Come here.” And he kisses him. “You _are_ wanted. You’ve always been wanted. And you _do_ belong. You always belong with me, with my family. Even without _this_ , that’s always been true.” He pauses and grins. “Just, maybe now... you belong a few more places than you did before....”

“Like?”

“ _My bed_.”

“I like the idea of belonging there. I really like that idea.”

Steve’s really not sure this other idea of theirs, the taking it slow idea, he’s not really sure how well that’s going to work, given the way Danny’s looking at him over his sandwich.

“Shut up and eat your food, Steven.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“You really like saying that....”

Danny just grins.

They distract themselves, after lunch, with some chores. Basic things like mowing the lawn, doing some laundry. And Steve has this idea he really wants Danny to feel he can bring the kids over, so he digs out some of his old stuff, mostly toy cars and action figures for Charlie. When he goes in the garage and pulls out his old starter surfboard, takes it out back to wash it down and wax it, Danny sits on the lanai with a beer and suggests maybe he could install a waterslide instead.

Steve decides he wants Danny having the “night off,” despite his protests that he doesn’t mind cooking and his observation (so, he _did_ know) that Steve seems to kind of like watching, so they get take out—and Danny tries not to make a huge deal about it, but he does point out how nice this is, civilized and everything. Given Danny’s sitting with his feet resting in Steve’s lap, pouring him a cocktail he mixed up from things Steve didn’t even know he had, and looking at him like he’s just as delicious as the meal, Steve’s really not at all about to deny it.

They start off trying to sleep in separate rooms, like they’d done the night before. But just when Steve’s about to get up and at least go check on Danny, he sees him standing in the doorway.

“Could we just... you know... cuddle... like we usually do on the sofa?”

Steve grins and lifts the blanket, scooting over to make room. And they do cuddle, although it’s not quite like they usually do, because there’s quite a bit of kissing involved, and some whispered thoughts and promises as well.

 

Monday winds up being one of those in-the-office days, and for the first half or so of the day, they somehow think they’re being subtle. Then at some point Danny texts Steve: _Yeah. They all know_. And Steve actually laughs. He should have guessed. Probably they have been watching, waiting—since the stupid bomb drill if not before. Probably before. A lot before, even. He doesn’t write back. Instead he walks out of his office, making sure Lou and Junior and Tani all see him. Briefly thinking it’s too bad Jerry isn’t in the upper office as well, he walks (okay, struts) towards Danny’s office. Flings the door open dramatically, walks up to Danny’s desk. Stands there. It’s then he remembers Jerry calling Danny, rather than interrupting them only just the other day, claiming they looked intense. So he whispers to Danny “Think we can get Jerry up here fast?”

Danny simply inclines his head, indicating behind Steve, and without looking, Steve knows—Jerry’s there. Somehow, somehow he’s been summoned. Magically, or by the power of the insanely reactive Five-0 gossip machine, he doesn’t even want to know.

Steve takes a deep breath, closes the remaining two steps to Danny, yanks him up by the front of his shirt, stopping just short of a full on filmtastic swoop, and plants a melodramatic kiss on Danny’s lips. Letting Danny drop back down in his seat, Steve winks, then walks, just as assuredly, back to his office where he probably should resume his work as though nothing’s happened, but instead he sits, smiling smugly, as the rest of the team walk into the hall and exchange cash. Tani seems to come out of it the best, which Steve takes as further affirmation that he chose right by her.

_You suck and I hate you. We will never, I repeat NEVER, live that down. You do realize this._

_Love you too, buddy._

Sometime later, Tani sticks her head in Steve’s office.

“Thanks boss,” she says, enthusiastically. “Can I buy you guys drinks tonight?”

Steve grins. “Kamekona’s, five on the dot.”

“You got it. Congratulations, by the way. It’s about fucking time.” She ducks back out before he can throw anything, as if he would. It’s Danny she should be concerned about in that regard, he thinks.

_She’s buying tonight, try to be nice._

_She’d better. Did you see how much money she made on that?_

 

Drinks at Kamekona’s are surprisingly subdued. The big man himself, evidently given pre-warning by someone who has smartly elected to stay nameless, has prepared something of a feast for the whole team. Danny’s favorite butter shrimp and Steve’s favorite spicy fish, and a bucket of Longboards on the table that seems to magically refill itself. Steve tries to slip Kamekona a fifty at one point, to which he replies: “Your money means nothing here tonight, brah.”

Danny sits, easily, comfortably, right at Steve’s side, and granted, it’s not all that different from how it would have been on any given night at Kamekona’s. But it feels different, and that, he thinks, is what matters. Besides, he knows where Danny’s going after. Or where he’s going. It doesn’t much matter, and Steve realizes they probably need to take some time and move some stuff to each other’s houses, just for now. He does, he admits, he hopes Danny will move in with him, a lot sooner than later... there’s rooms for the kids and the beach and all.... But there’s something to be said for slow transitions, and there’s nothing wrong with using both houses for now. No hurry at all, none, with any of it. The only pressing thing Steve feels at all is this notion that, were that alarm to go off, he’d see a different expression in Danny’s eyes. And, yeah, he hopes he never has to see it. But until he’s worked up the courage to ask a certain other question, it’s what he’s pinning his hopes on. Just for now.

They wind up at Danny’s that night, mostly because he’s closer to the Kamekona side of downtown, while Steve’s is on the other side. When he comes out of the shower, to find Danny settled in bed, reading something on his phone, he sees that Danny’s laid out some clothes for him. One of which is a shirt of his he’d forgotten about, Danny’d borrowed it years ago, when he’d wound up crashing at Steve’s after a rough night. Five years at least, it’s been. He’d completely forgotten the shirt even existed. Till now.

“Have you...?”

“Worn it? Yeah.” Danny’s growing more open about his own past... attachments. Possibly at a pace that matches Steve’s own. “You can’t have it back, but you can use it when you’re here. Which I hope is a lot.”

“What about when the kids...?”

Danny laughs. “Grace will be thrilled, of course. Charlie will probably not even think anything’s different. So, completely honestly, I’d love to have you here when they’re over. I’d love you here any time. But I’d really like it then. I told you. You’re part of our family. You always have been. The kids know it too.”

“And Rachel?”

Danny lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle. “You know... I think she’s assumed, for years now, that we were already together. I could be wrong, but. I think she’s going to be more in the ‘no, really, that’s not news’ camp.”

Steve grins. He can think of a few people who are probably with her in that particular campground. “Why is that, do you think? That so many people have thought it about us for so long?”

Danny closes his eyes, shakes his head just a little, and settles himself against Steve’s side as he gets comfortable in Danny’s bed. _Danny’s bed_. Letting out a long slow exaltation, he slides his hand under Steve’s shirt, letting it rest over his heart. Tapping his fingers lightly, to the rhythm of his pulse.

“Because they saw it, what we spent so long denying. They didn’t have any reason to fight it, like we did, so they just assumed.”

“It was harder for us...” Steve begins, realizing it’s true.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Why was it?” He presses. He thinks he knows, at least a little, but he thinks hearing it from Danny will help. Hopes it helps. Otherwise, he’s a little afraid he’s going to spend far too much time beating himself up over it, over how long it took.

“Honestly? And, yeah, I’ve thought about it. But honestly, I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that what we had, without this—” and here he kisses Steve. “Was already so much more than most people ever have.... So it was easy to feel content with that. And hope for some unspecific ‘more’ at some unspecific later date....” He leans back in for another kiss. Steve thinks Danny has a fairly valid point. Actually a remarkably insightful one. But he’s pretty much stunned by the fact of being in Danny’s bed, so he’s not feeling up to much in the way of coherence at the moment.

He does, however, grab hold of Danny’s hand and press it against his heart, keeping it there, under his hand. Wanting to be sure Danny feels the pulse of his heart. “What we have,” he says, softly, “ _with_ this... is more than I ever imagined. And is everything I’ve ever wanted.” He presses Danny’s hand more firmly under his own. “Just so that’s clear.”

“I know,” comes the whispered reply. “Me too.”

They sleep remarkably soundly, wrapped in each other’s arms. And yeah, Steve has to go home to get clothes before he can go to work, but they have breakfast together, they have a morning together, and it feels like so much more than a typical Tuesday morning, and it makes Steve grin, insanely hugely, to think that he’s going to feel that about so many things now. Thursday nights going to bed early. Friday mornings sleeping just that little extra. Working late, leaving early, taking off at lunch to surf. Shopping, packing lunches, picking up the kids, going out to dinner, hanging out at home.... All of it. They have all of it to learn, to explore, to discover. With each other.

As for his desire to have Danny by his side at the end of the world? Well, somehow it seems to matter a lot less now that he has Danny by his side while the world’s still turning. If that alarm really does sound, he hopes they’ll be together, he’s always going to hope that. But being together now is what he’s going to focus on—and he’s not even going to have to try, because it really does feel like the only thing that really matters. As long as he can wake up next to Danny, go to sleep next to Danny, work next to Danny—live, every day, next to Danny... he’ll take it. And feel like the luckiest man on the planet. Because he is.


End file.
